#inviral

     The only thought that stood out to the man in his current state. Between how weary he was, the panic and adrenaline, his grief at the state of his home...not much of relevance was going through his mind. Certainly nothing coherent. He’d been on a blind run for hours now, barely able to recall where it began.

    The mansion took its toll on all the remaining survivors in STARS, the abominations within leaving scars that may never heal. The worst part was no one even believed them. If only they had humored them, taken precautions...but it was too late for what ifs. The city was lost, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that. The outbreak hit hard and fast, two thirds of the city turned overnight and Raccoon City plunged into pure, unadulterated chaos. Abominations and atrocities against nature roamed the streets. 

    At the beginning, Wesker had led strike teams of officers through the city. Brad had done the same, leading a group downtown to locate survivors and aid in evacuation. They lost contact with Brad’s unit by the afternoon. Similarly, Wesker’s unit was terminated - a creature with one eye had appeared on a rooftop, and crashed down into the street near his team. Before Wesker could even process it, the officers nearest him opened fire, and the monster tore them to shreds.

    He himself was treated like a ragdoll. Thrown around, smacked against buildings, shot at- the thing could use weapons. It was intelligent. Knowing he had no chance, Wesker was prepared to go down swinging, when Brad rounded the corner, badly hurt; the monster uttered a single phrase before chasing him down and leaving Wesker behind. STARS. So it was after his team. Albert tried to stand, to give chase, but to no avail; he was forced to retreat to the station, to treat his wounds.

    But he was cut off. A monster that looked strikingly like a lizard had jumped him as he neared the gates, and though Albert put it down, the noise drew plenty of unwanted attention. He had to turn the other way and continue running. Running away from his last option of a securite location.

    Now he found himself charging through back alleys. Left hand clutching his right side, running with a limp. Right hand gripping his Samurai Edge so tightly his knuckles had gone white. Finger ready on the trigger. Blood dripped to the ground behind him, leaving a trail of crimson; his glasses were cracked, revealing a hint of the blue hues that sat concealed behind them. Panic flooded his entire being. Where should he go? What should he do? He was running out of options.

    A name sprung to mind. William. Clever, scholarly William. He helped create these monsters - surely he had some fallback plan? Some means of dealing with them more effectively? Perhaps even an antigen, to save these people? That solidified an objective in his mind. Let him ground himself. A quick change of direction set him running towards the Birkin household. He knew William was unlikely to be there; he was more often in the lab, after all. But Al didn’t know how to reach the laboratory William currently worked in, and his home seemed the best option. Oh, how he hoped he’d be there.

    Upon arrival, the man wasted no time. He was weakening, vision becoming blurred. Rapid knocks on the door, much more than a hint of urgency. “William- it’s Albert! Are you in there? Will!” His strength was fading. It was all he could do not to slump against the door; the cyclopsian creature had nearly done him in, that he got this far amazed him in itself. His tone was distressed, far from the cool, level-headed Wesker most would be used to. “William, I need you- open up!”

                                 “ wait ! ” she called as she skidded to a bit of a messy stop her hand raising as she stepped forwards once more a little slower. “ wait.... you don’t have to do this...” this city was going to hell, didn’t he care? didn’t he care about sherry? she inhaled slowly and attempted to ground herself a bit as she raised her hands in an attempt to offer some kind of white flag between them. “ please... i don’t want to have to stop you but i will. ”

the attack on this location was necessary, and honestly shouldn’t have surprised anyone that wesker moved for rockfort. yet, they were less then prepared. which worked in his favour and he was not angry in an easy take over, merely disappointed in their short comings. but that could be and would be corrected quickly. making his way through was to evaluate what he had here to make use of and what benefits had just been laid in his hands so easily. red flare behind the dark glasses perched on his nose he found himself in front of a holding cell with the most unexpected of occupants. 

“ well ... well ... well. ” his voice chimed as gloved hands came to grasp each other behind his back and steps came to a silent stop before the cell. “ this is truly unexpected, and i do not surprise easily. ” he confessed in honesty. “ here i was thinking you were dead, birkin and they’ve had you laid out here all along, i mean perhaps they weren’t as idiotic as first assumed. but this does work out better for me, now doesn’t it. ” he mused casually gaze narrowing behind his signature glasses. 

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 ( @inviral ​ / 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍  )   »    𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘

she should be thankful for the wandering survivours, who had taken it upon themselves to rescue her ( and what a sad sight she must have been, coated in her own blood, the starchy white fabric of her labcoat stained like a poor watercolour canvas ), dragging her through the corridors and onto the train - it's yellow bulky frame the treasure at the end of their yellow brick road. she should be grateful, a second chance offered by good people, good people who were steadily losing time. they, just like everyone else in the city, bearing the signs of infection, staving off symptoms by passing around anti-virals, a gift given to whoever in the little and were looking the most palid. an infection caused by her husband ( she didn't dare say a word. )

annette has never been good at the things she should be, however. what little gratitude she could must is a mere drop in the oncoming tide, the rolling wave of destruction approaching as each hour passed. she should have been a better mother. there's no telling if sherry made it out, the girl who looked barely older than a child herself walking away with sherry in her arms - someone who could care for her the way she should have. whatever regrets she has concerning her little girl, she could not name passing her into the care of the redhead as one of them. similarly, she should have been a better wife. should have abandoned this silly project of theirs - she knew what umbrella was capable of, knew william was all too familiar with it too. she should have put her foot down, demanded his resignation, demanded he had the project over just as he had with clemens. they could have left, gone somewhere else. it hadn't been worth dying for.

never had she been a bleeding heart, the very idea of it something she could not stand to see ascribed to her, but all those lives, all those shambling bodies passing by as the train rolled through - she had been, in some part, responsible. she hadn't saved sherry. she hadn't saved william. she hadn't saved anyone.

what was left for her now? umbrella would be looking for a scapegoat, her survival only ensured it would be her. dying in that fucking facility, it's white-on-white blindingly bright corridors her final tomb. each heavy sigh makes her body ache, muscles patched up with makeshift bandages, torniquets fashioned out of scraps of fabric pulled from the seats of the staff lounge. this wasn't like her, this morose regret, but wasn't she human? had she not lost everything?

RESIDENT EVIL 2 STARTERS

@inviral​